Thursday, August 18, 2011

I've had sex with Rick Perry and Ron Paul

I saw your ad, and as shameful as it is to admit it, I've have had sex with Rick Perry, repeatedly.

In the beginning, it wasn't intentional. I was just sitting there in my big ol' La-Z-Boy watching wrestling on the tee vee when, well, you know, I suddenly noticed that the Rick Perry handpuppet I was wearing had assaulted my man member.

I reacted immediately by trying to conjure up mental images of Betty Rubble, but failed miserable. Betty's head quickly morphed into Perry's, and then, a Ron-Paul-headed Wilma Flintstone appeared. It was nothing but hot, passionate Lebanese action, but with man thingies, from that point until I freed my imprisoned spermatazoan-Americans into the mason jar I keep next to the La-Z-Boy.

It was wrong and sinful. I know that. I drove to Seattle the next day to be redeemed through punishment by that biker-looking guy up on Capital Hill who spanks men from money. For the first time ever, his Great and Terrible Spatula of Redemption failed to redeem. Rick/Betty with a thingy and Ron/Wilma and his little Bircher invaded my head and went all Lebanese on the first spatula stroke. By the third stroke--yeah, I have that kind of stamina--I had liberated a whole passel of spermatazoans-Americans onto Spatula man's chaps. That costs extra.

There's a lot more to this story, but I don't think you need to hear about all the jack-o-lanterns or the squirrels and peanut butter to get my point. The fact is, no matter how much I pray for the strength to resist, Rick Perry and Ron Paul have their way with me at least seven or eight times a day.